


The First Promise

by Dani_MP



Series: A Series of Promises [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not beta'd we die like men, Not talking about their feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-01-23 18:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18555055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dani_MP/pseuds/Dani_MP
Summary: So many words in so many languages with so many meanings and those were the ones that would ruin his friendship.





	1. Chapter 1

So many words in so many languages with so many meanings and those were the ones that would ruin his friendship. Sure, they hadn’t been friends as long as some of the others; that didn’t mean their friendship meant less or wasn’t strong. It didn’t mean it hurt any less when it was gone.

The past two hours flash through San’s mind, a not so silent film of what started as concerned words finishing with that heartbroken plea.

The rest were all going out, utilizing their one free day in the middle of their busy schedule. San had opted to stay home, pretending to sleep when the others came in to invite him along, wherever they were going. When Yunho came in to grab his wallet, he glanced at the boy curled on his bed.

“You can fake sleep all you want for the others, but I can tell you’re awake. I’ve been your roommate for long enough.”

San slowly rolls from his position facing the wall. With Shiber clutched tightly in his arms, he meets Yunho’s gaze. The stern look he receives for his little act seems so foreign on Yunho’s, usually smiling, face. He felt a bit bad for being the reason his friend isn’t smiling. That is before the other opens his mouth.

“This can’t go on,” the older boy says, his expression softening at the sight of the smaller boy’s sadness. Watching his friend mope for so long affected him more than he was trying to let on.

“I don’t know what you mean,” He huffs, burying his face in the stuffed dog, eyes barely visible behind the toy’s face. The unimpressed look Yunho shoots him for that has him looking away.

“You know exactly what I mean. Telling him must be better than this. It’s been a month, S. A month since you’ve realized since you’ve tried to distance yourself from him. Which isn’t working, by the way.”

“I’m aware it isn’t working,” San snapped. “You think I’m not? That I don’t know that I immediately gravitate toward him when he’s near, that I don’t find some way to have any type of contact with him when he’s around. Of course, I know that!”

San pushes himself up, so he’s sitting, leaning closer and closer as he spoke. All the times San entered a room just to find himself attached to Wooyoung before forcing himself away play through his head. Seeing Wooyoung approach him, just for San to slip over to another member and start up a conversation. Keeping away from his best friend hurts and it is so easy to just let himself be close, let himself bask in the affection they share, but San knows it isn’t the same type of affection. It isn’t given with the same feelings it is received with and that hurts so much more.

“I’m sorry. I know this is difficult, but it’s also difficult to watch you hurt this way, both of you,” Yunho sighs, backing down.

“What do you mean ‘both of us’?” His expression pinches in confusion. “How can this hurt him, when he doesn’t know?”

“He doesn’t have to for him to see how much you’re hurting. You don’t see it, but every time you pull away or you avoid him, he hurts. You’re his best friend, San. Of course, he knows somethings wrong.”

“How would you know?” he sighs, tiredly.

“Because I have a best friend that I’m in love with, in case you’ve forgotten; one I tried to avoid until he essentially cornered me for an explanation,” Yunho states. He had had his own panic over realized feelings, over the fear of losing the person closest to you, over his friend finding out. “Mingi knew immediately something was off, we’ve been attached at the hip almost since we met. Just like you two.”

Cornering him may not have been the correct phrasing. They had been messing around after everyone else had left dance practice both wanting to get some excess energy out by running through some of the covers they had done previously. Mingi had dropped to lay on the floor while Yunho grabbed their waters from the table near the door. After plopping back down next to Mingi, he let his eyes run over his best friend’s tired form before ripping his eyes away when he caught Mingi’s eyes. What followed was an intense form of questioning and Yunho getting pinned before he could slip away without explaining.

“Just because your little love story had a happy ending doesn’t mean mine will. He… he would never see me that way. Ever.” San’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“You won’t know for sure unless you tell him.” San glares down from the top bunk, taking advantage of being taller than Yunho for once. The effect was ruined by the pillowy dog clutched in his arms, but he held the other boy’s eyes as he grumbles:

“Just leave it, Yunho.”

“Come on, San.” Yunho sighs, he’s tired of the conversation but more tired of watching his friend’s sulk around each other. “Just tal-”

“It isn’t up for debate,” San cuts him off. He takes a breath to calm himself, not wanting to snap at his friend again. “Please, just leave it alone. I’m dealing with it; you should go, have fun with Mingi.”

Yunho stares at San for a minute, taking in the defeated slump in his shoulder, the ways his eyes flicker up before settling back down on his hands petting Shiber. It wouldn’t help to push him now, he thinks. Tomorrow, maybe.

“Okay,” he sighs for what feels like the millionth time. “I’ll leave it. For now.”

San rolls his eyes, before laying down to face the wall again. He listens as Yunho grabbed his wallet and softly closes the door. Mingi’s voice carries down the hall. San could just barely make out Yunho telling the rest he wasn’t feeling well, not to bother him.

His phone buzzes once from under his pillow. San picks it up, reading the text from Yunho:  
“everyone’s out of the dorm, at least think about what we talked about.”

Scoffing, he tucks the device back under his pillow, pulling the covers higher over his shoulders and closes his eyes. He just wants to sleep for the rest of the year. Maybe then these stupid feelings would disappear.

 

What felt like hours later, San woke to the sound of the front door closing. He sat up and checks the time on his phone, only to discover it had died while he napped. He sighs, dragging himself down from his bunk and over to the phone charger. As he plugs it in, he hears the bedroom door open.

“You're back early,” he says, staring at his phone while it turns on.

“I didn’t feel like being out while you’re hiding away in here.”

San freezes, hands tightening on his phone in a panic. The last person he expected to be home stands behind him, waiting for an answer. His heart races, knowing he would see the warring emotions on his face if he turns. He pulls himself together enough to respond, still facing his phone.

“Oh, are the rest back, too?”

“No, just me.” He sounds tired, worn down by something. San refuses to think it’s because of him. It would hurt too much to acknowledge the hurt he’s putting his friend through.

“Ah,” San turned, heading back for his bed, hoping Wooyoung will leave it at that. He really should know better by now. Of course, Wooyoung won't leave it, just like San wouldn't if the roles were reversed.

“So, are we going to talk about this or are we going to pretend?”

“Talk about what?” San turns around, leaning against the post of the bunk, feeling a little trapped with Wooyoung standing in front of the door. He was going for nonchalant but knew Wooyoung could read the nervousness radiating off him.

“Pretending then,” the younger snarks, a disappointed frown marring his face, features pinched.

“Pretending?”

“Yes, pretending. Pretending you haven’t been trying to avoid me for the past month.” Wooyoung’s voice steadily growing louder, not quite reaching a shout but getting close. San shrinks back a little, not startled at the volume, he’s used to Wooyoung being loud, but the emotion behind the words. “And don’t say you haven’t. Now just… tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong, okay? I’m just… really tired.” San tries to play it off. They had all been overworking recently with all of the promotions, planning, and practices. Maybe he would take that excuse.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Or not.

“Look, I’m not leaving until you tell me, and don’t try lying to me.”

As if San could ever successfully lie to him; even trying to lie puts a sour taste in his mouth but he swallows around it, pushing the words from his throat.

“I’m fine. Stop asking.”

“You’re not fine and I’m going to keep asking until you give me an actual answer.” If anyone ever said Wooyoung wasn’t stubborn, obviously had never met him or, at least, never knew him. S knew he was stubborn but for once wished he would let it go.

“Why?” San asks tiredly. This was taking more out of him than all the practices they had done this week. More than their showcase. He hadn’t realized how much energy strong emotions take.

“Because you’re my friend. My best friend.” Wooyoung pleads.

“You keep calling me your best friend but you...” San cuts himself off, internally cursing himself for slipping, even that little bit. Giving Wooyoung an inch for him to push.

“I what?” he demands, gently.

“You wouldn’t want to be if I told you.” San swallows hard, pushing back the pressure building in his eyes at the thought of not having Wooyoung. He expects confusion, but anger and hurt are what he gets.

“Is that how little you think of me?” Wooyoung jerks back slightly, as if slapped. His eyes harden with his words.

“Wha- No!”

“Then what, San?” The volume is back but the emotion has gone. The words don’t quite sound empty but there’s a blankness to the that cuts through San. “Is it that you don’t trust me? Do you not want to be my friend anymore?”

“Maybe!” San blurted out. His brain taking a minute to catch up with his mouth.

“W-what?” Wooyoung stuttered, hurt clear on his face.

“I-I mean…” San’s mind tries to work through what he just said. Of course, he still wanted to be Wooyoung’s friend; of course, he trusted him. But maybe it would be easier. Easier to get over this or deal with it if they weren’t friends. San bit his lip, it would hurt so much more to not be around him, to never be able to spend time together, to confide in him, to be there with him. Before San could finish his thought, Wooyoung’s voice broke through his panicked thoughts.

“You could’ve just told me you hated me, instead of avoiding me.” His expression had closed off now, no emotion showing through. San flinched, pained by the stony look on the face that usually looked at him with some form of affection.

“I don’t hate you!” San insisted.

“Then what?! What am I supposed to think when you say you don’t want to be my friend anymore?! When you’ll barely talk to me?!”

“I-I don’t hate you. I-It’s just better this way.” San felt the room get a little smaller, bringing him closer and closer to the truth, to Wooyoung. His chest tightens in panic, eyes blurring.

“How is this better?!” Wooyoung demands confused desperation etched across his face.

“This way I don’t lose you,” San whispers, voice cracking.

The room is silent for a second. Wooyoung’s breathe and San’s small sad noises breaking it. They both wilt even more taking in what they had both just said. Wooyoung steadies himself before speaking again.

“You won’t,” he reassures, hands fluttering like he wants to reach forward and take San into his arms. Or maybe to shake some sense into him.

“You don’t know that.”

“Nothing you could say or do would ever make me leave you,” he promised.

San stood there for a moment, hope blooming in his chest. Maybe, just maybe. Wooyoung has never done anything to hurt him, his heart reasoned. It doesn’t mean he won’t now, argued his brain.

“Just tell me, please,” Wooyoung begged, taking a step toward him.

Something snapped in San, maybe it was the careful control he had over his mouth this past month, maybe his senses. It didn’t matter what, just that he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Couldn’t hide from the boy in front of him. Couldn’t deal with hurting them anymore, either of them.

“I-I’m in love with you.” Blurting out his confession, San could barely catch his breath to finish, feeling like he’d run ten miles. Desperation kept his mouth moving, disconnected from his brain, hardwired to his heart. Desperation to keep his friend but also to make him finally understand. “I love you and the worst thing that can happen to me is if you never speak to me again. That’s why I never told you; I can’t handle if you left.”

The words rang through the room, hanging around San like a noose. Shock warps his features as he realizes what just left his mouth. Eyes widening, mouth falling slack. He stood there by the edge of the bed, staring at the other boy.

He hadn’t meant to say it, to blurt out what had been plaguing him for the last month. It had just gotten to be too much. Too much of the member’s teasing, the constant affection that he knew didn’t mean the same thing to the younger boy as it did to him, along with the stress of the tour. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He flounders for a moment before finding his voice again.

“Please, say something,” he whispers, voice just barely cracking on the first word.

Wooyoung blinks his wide eyes for a moment, his lips moving as if to answer but no sound coming out. San didn’t know what to expect. He thought he was prepared for rejection, or even shouting, disgust. What he wasn’t prepared for was his best friend turning and practically running out of the room like he was running from a wild animal.

Silence settles even more firmly in his absence, the weight of it crushing, threatening to suffocate San. Why had he opened his mouth? Why couldn’t he just keep that one secret to himself? Now his best friend is probably never going to speak to him again. Never want to see him again.

A chill spreads through his chest at the thought, heart freezing over. This is what rejection feels like, he thought, like the air being vacuumed from your lungs. Drowning in your own feelings.

His vision blurs even more; for a second, he thought his contacts had dried from staring at the doorway where that framed a boy no longer there until he registers the damp trails on his cheeks. An ache settles in his shoulders from his hunched position, his body instinctively curling in. The strain forces him onto the bed, onto his side, head missing the pillow, shrinking in on himself.

Regret was all he felt. Regret over these stupid feeling, over blurting them out, over that dumb little hopeful light that was snuffed out with swift exit of his best friend.

His best friend, who ran from him. Left him. After promising he would never.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long but at least it's here, right?  
> I had Stray Kids in LA then finishing out my last term at community college but writing this was a good stress release from finals.

The dorm slowly fills with noise as the others return from their various day-off activities. He can hear Mingi and Jongho talking about what they had done while they were out, moving from the living room into their room. Seonghwa calls out to them about when to expect dinner while Hongjoong says something about getting some work done. Yeosang’s steps make their way to his room, his voice calling out if anyone has seen Wooyoung. San tugs the covers closer over his head at the mention of the boy. 

He can hear Yunho say something to Mingi before entering his own room. He starts to put away some of the things he brought back with him, not registering the lump on the bottom bunk but knowing San is there. San didn’t realize that he had collapsed on Yunho’s bed instead of climbing back up to his until the older enters their room. The taller changes into more comfortable clothes before speaking. 

“Wooyoung said he was coming back, but I didn’t see him when I came in. Did you get to talk?”

Yunho finally turns, eyes catching sight of the lump on his bed, one that had been on the top bunk when he left. Noticing the blankets bunched up around San’s head, he walks over and gently tugs the blanket away from the other boy’s face. His expression drops as he takes in the blotchy redness marring San’s face, his shaking shoulders, and the tear puddle on the sheets below him. Yunho softly brushes the hair out of San’s eyes, wiping a few tears away in the process. 

“Oh Sannie, what happened?”

San shakes his head, burying his face back in the comforter clutched in his fists. He doesn’t want to explain it, doesn’t want to relive it. Right, he scoffs to himself, like he hadn’t been replaying it in his head a hundred times before Yunho came back. He just doesn’t know if he could get it out. At least, not without crying again. Or crying more.

“Please, tell me.”

San flinched at the familiar words, echoes of different voices pleading with him ring through his mind. He clenches his teeth, shoulders shaking but holding back the sobs that try to break through. He tries to hide it, but Yunho’s hand twitches with his movement.

“I told him,” San whispers, his words lost in the fabric of his pillow.

“What?” Yunho asks, not quite hearing the muffled words. His heart was breaking for the younger, just seeing him in this state, especially after encouraging Wooyoung to come back and talk to him. What had Wooyoung said to hurt San so much? He had thought that they just needed time to themselves, uninterrupted, to sort things out, but looking at San now all he thinks is how much a mistake it must have been.

San turns his head enough to free his face from the pillow. He meets his roommate’s eyes for a second before looking back down at the bedding. It takes him a few tries before he can speak, words getting stuck in his throat, choking him.

“I told him a-…” San’s lips tremble in an effort to keep in the sobs. “and he ran.”

A pause settles. San is starting to hate the silence.

“He what?”

“He ran, Yunho.” San huffed; anger started to replace the sadness before crashing back down into despair. “I told him I’m in love with him and he ran. And he never c-came back.”

Hiccupping sobs take over after he says it out loud, not hitting him completely until then. Yunho freezes for a second before crawling onto the bed and curling around him. He held San as the sobs wracked his form, shaking them both. The sound draws Mingi, Jongho, and Yeosang, who all peak in from the doorway, not quite sure what to do. Yunho looks at them, considering having them help comfort San before deciding against. He subtly shoos them away, making a mental note to explain the situation to them all later. He can still hear Seonghwa in the kitchen and assumes Hongjoong has his headphones on, thus hasn’t heard any of the noise.

Oh god, what did he do, Yunho thinks.

Slowly, the sobs subside into quiet breaths. Yunho peaks at San’s face from where it's buried in his chest, realizing he cried himself to sleep. He carefully extracts himself from the sleeping boy, pulling as many stuffed toys from the top bunk as he could to tuck around him, so he doesn’t wake up completely alone. 

Yunho takes one last look at the younger sleeping soundly. He softly closes the door before gathering the others and motioning for them to meet him in the living room. Mingi gives him a look, Yunho tries to smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Jongho looks between them then grabs Yeosang on his way down the hall, dragging the older behind him. Yunho steps forward, all but throwing himself into Mingi’s arms. They stand there for a few moments, basking in each other’s presence. Yunho lets himself relax into his boyfriend’s hold, just breathing. His sadness subsides slightly, still settled under the surface but not as overwhelming as it was when he was holding San. 

They need to fix this. He needs to fix this. It was his idea, his fault, his friends are hurting right now. He also needs to find Wooyoung, find out what he said, why he ran… if he’s okay. 

He pulls himself free, pulling himself back together. 

“We need to get the others. I need to let them know what happened so we can fix this.” Throwing a smile at Mingi, Yunho turns to leave the room. A hand stops him before he makes it to the door.

“Hey,” Mingi says softly, turning Yunho to look back at him. “You know this isn’t your fault, right?”

“It is my fault,” Yunho responds, holding a hand up when Mingi goes to interrupt. “It’s my fault because I told Wooyoung to go back, to talk to San while everyone one was out. I practically forced San to tell Wooyoung about his feelings. Of course, I’m responsible for the outcome. I’m responsible for my friends hurting.”

Mingi sighs, knowing he won’t be able to talk Yunho out of this right now. He slides his hands around Yunho’s waist, pulling him into another hug. 

“We’ll talk about it later.” Yunho nods, knowing he won’t get out of it but willing to put it off. They pull away again and walk to the living room together. 

Yeosang and Jongho had gathered Hongjoong and Seonghwa on the couch, waiting for Yunho and Mingi to come in. The eldest two look a little confused having not seen the state San had been in. It’s odd for them to be so out of the loop; Seonghwa is usually the one everyone confides in, Hongjoong the pillar for them to lean on. Not this time.

Yunho and Mingi join the rest on the couch, sitting on one end with the others in front of them. 

“What’s going on?” Seonghwa asks. Yunho feels small under five sets of eyes, an odd feeling for someone six feet tall. Mingi seems to sense his distress and slips a hand into his. Yunho gives him an appreciative smile before speaking. 

“I… encouraged Wooyoung to come back while we were out and try to speak with San. I thought maybe if they were alone, they could work everything out but…”

“But?”

“San told Wooyoung about his feelings and Wooyoung… well, he ran.”

“Wait, Wooyoung ran? As in he left the dorm and hasn’t come back?”

“Yeah.” 

“It’s been hours since that would’ve happened, and no one has heard from him?” Seonghwa asks.

“We need to find him. To bring him back,” Yeosang says.

“We can’t all go, some of us should stay here. Seonghwa and I will go out to see if we can find him at any of the usual spots. You all stay here, look after San, and try calling Wooyoung,” Hongjoong states, pulling Seonghwa up with him as he rises from the couch. “Keep your phones on you in case he calls, or we find him.”

The other boys nod to the eldest as they head for the door, hoping Wooyoung comes home soon,

 

San wakes up to raised voices drifting from the living room. He’s disoriented for a moment, wondering why he’s one the bottom bunk, in Yunho’s bed. Everything crashes back into focus, like ice water rushing over his head. He hears them mention Wooyoung, how he hasn’t come home yet, how they need to find him. He hears to the front door close and soft voices from those still in the dorm. 

Worry engulfs San; no matter how much Wooyoung hurt him, he’s still his best friend, he still… loves him. Panic starts to set in as San’s imagination runs wild. What if he’s hurt? What if he’s been kidnapped? 

His brain knows it’s an irrational thought. It’s only been a couple of hours; he probably just went somewhere to clear his head. But those little voices bring up every doubt they can latch onto. 

San pushes the blankets off him, lunging for his phone across the room, plushies dropping to the floor in his hurry. Phone in hand, he dials Wooyoung’s number. 

And immediately gets his voicemail.

He decides not to leave a message. 

He redials.

Voicemail.

He redials.

Voicemail.

Once more.

He leaves a message on the last.

“H-hi… um, I-I don’t know where you are or if you even want to see me o-or listen to me but… I just, I’m worried and I want to know if you’re okay,” He pauses, emotions getting the better of him. “I lied before. I know you know I did but I just… I’m not fine. I know I said I was, but I’m not. Especially now, but you already knew that. You always could see right through me… Just come back… please. We’re all worried an-” Beeeep.

 

Wooyoung sits at a table in an arcade not too far from the dorm. Once he had gotten outside the building, he had walked on autopilot until the flashing lights caught his attention. The familiarity of the games and noises from going there with his members comforted him enough for him to sit. 

Not knowing how long he’d been sitting there, he pulls his phone out to check the time. It flashes once before dying. Wooyoung glances around to see if there’s a clock near him, catching a glance at one on the wall between two games. Two hours since he left the dorms, left San. 

San. 

Wooyoung mentally smacks himself for running the way he had, but he had to think. After a year of forcing himself to only think of San as a friend, to push away thoughts that didn’t fit within that category, to only allow himself to be physically close with him while reminding himself that San didn’t feel the same, just to find out San returned his feelings… That he loves him back. 

It was a shock, to say the least, but that still isn’t an excuse for abandoning his best friend.

He buries his head in his hands, groaning. How could he be so stupid, stupid to run away, stupid for not pushing San sooner, stupid for not telling him about his feelings first? He needs to go back to the dorms. He has to explain himself, tell San that he feels the same, that he hadn’t meant to run, that he was sorry. 

Wooyoung pushes himself up, filled with determination, and heads back for the dorms. 

 

The twenty minutes it takes him to get back feels too long but fighting against Seoul’s foot traffic would always be time-consuming. By the time he arrives, he’s lost a bit of his nerve. 

Wooyoung almost runs into a pacing Yeosang when he enters the dorms. He barely has time to pull his shoes off before being dragged into the living room. 

“Where have you been? Actually, don’t answer that. I need to call Seonghwa and Hongjoong to let them know you’re back so they can come home and you can answer to them. Not only for running off but also for not letting anyone know where you were. Did you even think? Again, don’t answer that, because I know you weren’t.”

Wooyoung stares at Yeosang for the entirety of his little speech. He had never seen his friend so… not angry, but scared? The anger is there but the concern and fear mask it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hopefully now Yunho can stop moping and-,” Yeosang pauses as he registers that Wooyoung had said something. “Wait, what?”

“I said I’m sorry. I should have told someone after I left. It was irresponsible to just take off. I’m sorry I worried you, all of you.”

“Oh, okay. Um, I’m gonna let the others know you’re here but I, uh, I think you should go talk to San.”

Wooyoung nods but stood frozen on the spot. He doesn’t know what he is going to say to the other boy. Yeosang gives him a little push in the direction of San and Yunho’s room.

“He hasn’t been out since we got back. Fix it.”

Wooyoung glares at his friend for a moment before moving toward the door. He hesitates outside the room, unsure of what he has to say, or if he’s even welcome. Steeling himself with a fortifying breath, he pushes open the door just enough to see in. He could see Yunho laying on his bed, seemingly cuddling with something. It takes him a moment to realize the something Yunho is holding isn’t, in fact, a something but a someone. San. 

A flash of jealousy burns through Wooyoung before he pushes it down. It wouldn’t do to get mad at the person who is helping. 

Yunho glances up and catches Wooyoung peaking through the doorway. A few emotions flicker across his face; relief, anger, and disappointment before a resigned look settles there. He extracts himself from San’s grip and approaches Wooyoung, pulling the door open enough for the smaller boy to come in. 

“You’re back,” he whispers, unconsciously moving even further between San and Wooyoung.

“Yeah, I, uh, I need to talk to San.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea right now,” Yunho pushes his shoulder back and crosses his arms. Very rarely does Yunho use his height against anyone in a way that isn't joking. Wooyoung remembers just how intimidating the taller could be. 

“Look, I know I messed up, but I need to fix it.”

“'Messed up’ is putting it mildly. You ran, Wooyoung; he thinks you hate him.”

“I-I didn’t mean to,” he whispers, glancing down at his feet before pulling himself together enough to look the eldest of the ’99 line in the eyes. “I acted on instinct and I regret it. Please, just let me talk to him. Let me tell him the truth.”

Yunho sighs, his defensive stance collapses, shoulders sagging. Exhaustion becomes more apparent in his features. He feels like he’s giving up too easily but what else is he supposed to do?

“Okay.”

The easy admittance shocks Wooyoung for a second. He claps Wooyoung lightly on the shoulder before exiting the room. He just hopes he isn’t making another mistake.

“But I’m waking him up. Not to be mean, but you might not want to be the first thing he sees right now.”

Wooyoung flinches slightly, but nods. Just because he gets it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt; the thought of his best friend not wanting to see him. Now he feels like even more a heel because this is probably what San felt like. 

He watches as Yunho kneels by the bed, gently shaking the other boy and quietly speaking to him when his eyes blink open. The moment San realizes Wooyoung is in the room is visible with how stiff he goes and if that isn’t another punch in the gut, he doesn’t know what is. He can’t tell what Yunho is saying to him or if he had told him Wooyoung was there before San saw him.

Yunho stood, ignoring San’s rapidly shaking head and attempts to grab his arm. San misses his arm by an inch, falling off the bed in the process. They both freeze when the door clicks shut.

Wooyoung stares at San’s back, his front hanging over the side of the bed, in what has to be a really uncomfortable position. He doesn’t know if he should say something, help his friend up, or wait for San to do something. His mouth runs before his brain tells him what to say.

“Are you okay?”

He almost smacks himself for it; ‘are you okay?’ how stupid. First of all, he didn’t look like he was hurt; secondly, if he was hurt, it was Wooyoung’s fault in the first place. 

San slides himself onto the floor then pushes onto his feet, not quite facing Wooyoung but not avoiding him completely. He sighs, sitting back down on the bed facing Wooyoung a little more. 

“I…” He starts, pausing to think for a moment. “I’m not. Okay, I mean. Not okay.”

Wooyoung looks down at that; it was a dumb question. 

“Did you get my voicemail at least?”

Wooyoung’s eyebrows pinch. Looking back up, he asked, “Uh, what voicemail?”

“The one I left after calling you five times.” San played with his hands, mumbling out of embarrassment. “I mean, I get if you didn’t because you were ignoring me. I just wanted to know if you heard it.”

“Oh, uh.” Before Wooyoung could finish San cuts him off.

“I just… you asked if I was okay and I, um, I said I wasn’t in the voicemail and I just, just…” San huffs, frustrated with his stuttering but not knowing what he wants to say. “I mean why would you ask if you’d heard it, I guess.”

“My phone died. I would’ve picked up, or at least listened to the voicemail but it died before you called.”

San looks up at that; he’d thought maybe Wooyoung just didn’t want to talk or was ignoring him after what he’d said but his phone had just died. They sat there for a moment, each waiting for the other to say something. Finally, they both break the silence, at the same time.

“I’m sorry.” They stared at each other for a moment before Wooyoung asks:

“Why are you sorry? I ran when I should’ve stayed. I should have listened and talked to you, but I-I was confused and scared.”

“No, I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I should have just kept it to myself or-or something,” San stood, turning to pace before spinning back to face Wooyoung, now only a few feet away.

“Bu-,” Wooyoung tried to cut in but was cut off again.

“I tried not to fall in love with you. I really did, but I just-” San gets cut off by Wooyoung pulling him into a hug before releasing him just enough to look into his eyes. “I couldn’t take it anymore. All the contact and questions. It just got to be too much,” he finished, staring into the brown eyes in front of him.

“I’m happy you did because I-I love you too and I am so sorry I ran. I was overwhelmed which isn’t an excuse. It isn’t a good reason either. I’m just so sorry cause I hurt you and I never wanted to do that, ever. I’d understand if you never wanted to see me again but-,” Wooyoung knew he was rambling so when he gets cut off for the third time, this time by San pulling him in by his collar, he doesn’t mind. Wrapping his arms around Wooyoung’s shoulders was a familiar feeling but the sensation of their lips meeting was a foreign as LA had felt all those months ago, but just as amazing, in different ways. 

They pulled away, keeping close. 

“You love me?” San whispered, eyes betraying his fear, the uncertainty that maybe he had read it wrong, even as his friend had kissed him back. “As more than a friend, right?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung whispered back, resting his forehead against San’s. “Yeah, I love you as more than a friend and I’d say it in any language if it means you’ll be mine.”

San let out a quiet laugh, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I’ll be yours. It doesn’t matter what language you ask in. Just ask.”

So he did.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first fic I've ever posted. I hope everyone likes it.


End file.
